The Marshal And The Ranger
by Phoenix of the Air
Summary: No matter how long they are kings, they will always be who they are. A story of warmth, reunion and a freedom they had all missed.
1. Escape From The Study

_I do not own LOTR._

_This story is not romance and not to be taken as such._

_All of my stories are interconnected. However, my readers do not have a need to read one story to understand the next._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter 1

The Citadel,

City of Minas Tirith,

Gondor.

_Set ten years after the War of the Ring._

"I plead mercy." Eomer declared, his brown-golden eyes twinkling in merriment. He leaned back in his chair, putting his legs on his already crowded desk. Lothiriel paid her husband no notice, but continued to don on her cloak.

"I am sure you can survive without my assistance for three days." She replied testily.

"Come now, you know I function better as a king with you as my advisor."

"You can live without." Lothiriel snapped, but her quivering lips betrayed her amusement. "Besides," the Rohirric Queen went on, "It is not as if you would be quite alone. You have assistance should you need it."

"Who? Me?" Aragorn spoke up from behind his desk. The Gondorian King was standing, both hands resting on his own already-crowded desk. "I am trying to convince my own queen to stay." Amused grey eyes flitted sideways to where Queen Arwen stood, already dressed for travel.

"As my friend Lothiriel has said," Arwen replied, coolly. "You two would do fine without any… distractions."

"Family is not a distraction." Aragorn muttered under his breath.

"May I ask again what is so necessary that the both of the queens are visiting Ithilien?" Eomer asked from his seat.

"Nothing really," Lothiriel explained casually. "However, it would be wonderful to meet Eowyn again. There is much for us to discuss."

"And I wish to see how the Elven Colony is coming along," Arwen added. "Legolas had mentioned great plans for his city in his letters."

"Now I know who to blame for my wife's travel!" Aragorn explained, making all the royals laugh. "I will make sure Thranduil finds him a wife, and quick!"

"You will do nothing of the sort!" Arwen snapped. "The poor elf has only started to enjoy his works. I will not have some dim-wittted she-elf wreaking havoc in his household."

" Fair Queen, when he does marry, I intend to let his wife know that you said that." Eomer put in.

"I would like to see you try," Arwen replied easily. "You forget that your wife here is my good friend. If you try anything of the sort, I am sure she will take revenge on my behalf." Lothiriel nodded in agreement.

"And besides," The Queen continued. "It is not as if we will be gone for long. It is only for four days."

"Four, short days," Lothiriel added.

Eomer grinned and threw up his hands in surrender.

"I admit defeat! The queens are far too good in this battle. Aragron," Eomer spoke, casting a sidelong glance at his friend. "Surely, you are known as silver-tongue by your advisors. Use your talent upon them, I beseech you!"

"Alas, my friend!" Aragorn said, laughing and slapping his thigh. "I have tired but to no avail. I fear we must see them off, and off we will see them, or so Master Samwise would have said!"

Eomer sniffed, but as a Marshal, he knew defeat when he saw one. "Go," the Rohirric King said grudgingly," But mark my words, Lothiriel. I will get my back for this!"

"Indeed." Lothiriel commented dryly. "And we all know how you will do so!"

Laughter echoed in the marbled study. "Come, dear," Arwen said, gesturing towards the door. "We really must be off."

And so at the lower circle of Minas Tirith, the two kings bid their queens farewell. The two father hugged their respective sons and watch in growing sadness as their families rode away.

When they returned to Aragorn's study, each took their place behind their respective desks. Eomer studied the pile of papers with a forlorn expression.

"Aragorn," the Rohirric King said suddenly. "Truly you are a dear and close friend."

"Nay," Came the tart reply. "I am not so. Do not think I do not know what you ask! I will not do your work for you!"

The Rohirric sniffed disdainfully, and muttered aloud. "Savages and oath-breakers surround Rohan from all sides. What a world, what a world…."

Aragorn grinned and did not reply, instead bending down to study the map closely.

The two kings worked silently, in a companionable silence. The workload was not as great as it would have been had they been in war, but in these times of peace, they looked for newer methods to live in ease. Many people were dabbling in science and mechanics, coming up with newer designs to upgrade their cities. The two kings had to hear such plans and pass a verdict on them, for or against.

After three hours of continuous work, the Rohirric could not take it anymore. He had never been patient when it came to paperwork, but the presence of his wife working beside him gave him the willpower to continue. But now, the queen was absent, and this silence was trying him.

"I have had enough." He announced angrily, startling Aragorn as he studied various books for his report. The Gondorian King looked up questionably.

" 'Tis not fair that our ladies are able to enjoy what they will while we toil in these confounded four walls." Eomer continued, getting up and pacing on the carpeted marble floors.

"You sound as petty as my son Eldarion." The Gondorian king spoke up, naming his four-year old.

As expected, the Rohirric shot daggers with eyes at the raven-haired king, who was unfazed by the dangerous look.

"Though I admit I would love an outing like the one our wives would be having. It has been too long seen the last time I had gone out without an escort, and my title of a king."

"Truly, I wish for one day to shed my title and ride out in the open lands," Eomer said, sighing and sitting down on one of the chairs by a long window.

For one moment, both the kings tensed together and relaxed. Looking up abruptly, their eyes met and they reached a silent agreement. Aragorn raised his brow in question.

"Would you?" Aragorn asked slowly.

"I will if you will."

The two kings shared a secretive grin. "But surely!" Eomer said, his loud laugh resonating in the study. "Let us both be away, then! No longer shall we be known as Eomer Eadig, and High King Elessar! Let us be away, as Third Marshal Eomer and Strider of the North!"

The Gondorian servants- bless them- were well-trained for they did not question their respective kings' sudden desire to rest in the afternoon. None of the servants were allowed to disturb the two kings, but they did not realize that the two kings were prepared each in their own rooms.

Eomer tensed, and drew his sword as he watched an entire wall shift away.

"What is this?" The Rohirric demanded as Aragorn emerged from the dark passageway.

"These are hidden passageway built throughout the Citadel." Aragorn explained. Eomer looked at the hidden corridor in wonder. "Consider this a passage for us to leave the Citadel unnoticed."

"What if someone recognizes us as we make our way down to the lowest circle?" The Rohirric asked. "We meet the common people far too many times for them not to recognize us."

Aragorn gave a small smile. "I do not think we will be recognizable in these clothing."

The Gondorian was right. Eomer looked down at his clothing. Gone was the finely-embroidered tunic, instead it was replaced by a course fabric that was made into tunic and shirt. Over it, he wore his red-dyed armor, upon which he wore a hooded, deep green cloak which was so large that it covered him completely.

Aragorn's fine silvered armor and black outfit was gone, replaced by weather-stained, travel-worn grey raiment that suspiciously looked to be the same he had worn during the War of the Ring.

"You kept it?" Eomer asked, gesturing at the Ranger's clothing. The other smiled grimly, "As you kept the cloak you had worn in the Battle of Pelennor Fields."

They shared a look of sorrow. The horrors of the three wars were terrible to behold. They had lost much in the name of freedom, friends who will not return, and kingdoms that would have fallen if not for their efforts.

Suddenly, Eomer straightened, "Come, my friend! Let us be away before your advisors catch us!"

And with that the two kings entered the dark corridor, the marble wall sliding shut behind them. Here started their adventure, one they both meant to enjoy.

* * *

_Author's note: I had always considered Eomer to be jolly in nature, with a fierce temper only in battles. As for Aragorn, I had considered him to be wise, but since he was brought up by elves (who have a lively nature, according Tolkien books) it would mean that Estel here has a streak of impulses too._

_As for Arwen and Lothiriel, they were the hardest to write because neither of them is fully developed in the LOTR books, so I stuck with Tolkien's tendency of showing the women as fair and graceful. _


	2. Escape From The City

Chapter 2

"Aragorn, this is ridiculous!" Éomer protested, his naturally loud voice vibrating in laughter.

"Nonesense, 'tis completely logical."

"But we do not have any food!"

"We will buy some."

"We do not have any money!"

"We will get some."

"You are insane."

Aragorn chuckled, his voice echoing dully in the dark corridor. The Gondorian raised the torch higher, the fire giving a fiery red glow to the stones.

"Not insane, I am simply impulsive."

"I do not see the difference." Éomer replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"The proper way to differentiate the two is with an example; Faramir is insane, I am impulsive."

Éomer smiled quietly. The joke on the shrewd Steward's insanity had come from the time when Faramir had expressed a delight in sciences and mechanics. The man had sounded enthusiastic on mixing of vile potions. From then on, the two kings had teased the Ithilien Prince. It was only a light-hearted jest, one that Faramir took well.

"Nay! Legolas is impulsive. Faramir is insane, that one is correct, while you…"

"Careful, friend," Aragorn said warningly. "You wouldn't want to start a war between our two countries now, would you?"

"I will take my chances." Came the tart reply. Aragorn grinned.

It had ten years since the War of the Ring. The darkness had passed, and the hauntings that follow every war had passed over the years. Soon, people were lighter in mood than they had been before. Many people considered the Rohirric King serious and grave, but only his friends knew how jolly the king could be.

"You have become as disrespectful as Legolas."

"I prefer the words frank and thankful." Éomer said, looking unfazed by Aragorn's reply. The Gondorian sighed and shook his head. He can never win an argument with either this man or that elf.

The tunnel dipped down once more, and Éomer soon realized that they had been walking for longer than he realized.

"Aragorn," Éomer said, his voice growing serious. "Where are we?"

"I do not know," the dark-haired man replied. "What I do know is that we are following one of the escape routes designed as passageways for general people to use under an attack. Presumably, it leads down to the lowest circle. From there, there should be another tunnel leading straight into the mountain. There are interconnected caves within the mountain, where the people can take refuge."

"Then why was it not used during the Siege of Minas Tirith during the War?"

Aragorn looked grim. "I expect Denethor did not remember it in his madness. Or perhaps he knew but he gave into despair. I prefer thinking it was the former; that way I am not thinking ill of the late Steward. Ah, here we are." Aragorn exclaimed, pointing towards the dead end. Éomer looked to see a faded diagram of the White City on the wall, with lowest circle highlighted. Aragorn ran his hand over the sides, "There should be some form of mechanism here… ah!" With a triumphant shout, the Gondorian tugged on a block of stone protruding from the lower side of the wall. There was rumble and dust fell from the aged ceiling. Aragorn pushed the door slightly. "My friend, if you would be so kind as to help…"

"Of course," Éomer said, quickly coming to the Gondorian's side. Aragorn had not been much successful in moving the wall, but the larger frame of the Rohirric was more capable for the feat. With a grunt, Éomer cleared the opening to greet the bright glare of the sun.

The lowermost level was where the two kings had to be the most cautious. This level was mostly military; it was a home for unmarried guards, Rangers and soldiers. Many of them knew Aragorn as he spent every day in their practice grounds. Aragorn would have to be cautious. As for Éomer, he had to be alert as well; his men were residing in this level. Worse, Éothain was with them, and he was well-known to rein in many of the Rohirric's impulses.

Aragorn nudged the Rohirric lightly. "Let us try our luck, shall we?" Éomer nodded and the two kings fell in step with each other.

There was a wonder in their appearance. Gone was the black and silver armor of the Gondorian King. Gone was the gold-trimmed green and beige-colored riding outfit of the Rohirric King. Aragorn was wearing gray garments, with a hooded cloak that seemed to merge with its surroundings. The clothes were travel-stained. In fact, these were the same clothes that Aragorn had worn during the War and it was a gift from the Galadhrim.

Éomer wore his usual red-dyed armor. It would have made him conspicuous, for only Éomer wears such an intense color and it had been sung in many ballads. But the king wore a standard green cloak that covered him completely till his knees. With his golden hair free from restraints, he looked like a powerful young man in the éored.

"Éothain will not be fooled. We are still the same people." Éomer hissed as they straight into the main street.

"We will avoid him. Just act natural and do not look around. It will make you look suspicious."

"As you wish."

Still, Éomer was a soldier, not a Ranger. He found it hard not to fidget or glance around. But Aragorn knew that the best way of blending in is by acting as if he had every right to be there.

Luckily, there weren't many soldiers and Rangers on the streets. Many of them had left for practice or a good dinner with friends. They reached the stables without trouble.

"That was easy." Éomer commented dubiously, glancing over his shoulder. One thing he knew about such plans is that they are never easy.

"Come now! We are almost out, or are you afraid?" Aragorn said teasingly. The Gondorian patted his horse before picking up the riding gear.

"Nay! But tell me, where are we going?"

"Why, to Ithilien, of course! I wish to be with my family."

"A good plan." Éomer said, laughing as he saddled his horse. "But what about food?"

Aragorn looked out of his horse's stall and rudely regarded the Marshal up and down. "Well, you are not lacking in size." Aragorn said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But here, I do have some gold coins…"

From the saddlebag, the Ranger produced a bag that clanked as he shook it. "How in Middle-Earth…" Éomer started to say.

"This is not the first time I had made a getaway, my friend. I fear I do not have much love for stone."

Éomer smiled, "Alright then. Let us get underway."

They did a quick job in saddling the horses. No word came down from the Citadel yet, which meant that the servants had not noticed their missing sovereigns. Aragorn led his gray gelding out of the stall and noticed Éomer pulling on his hood.

"Hood off." The Ranger commanded. "It will make you look suspicious as you leave. You can wear it in the journey if you want but not when we are leaving the City."

Trusting Aragorn, Éomer left it be. They mounted the horses when they left the stables. Sure enough, as they neared the gates, the guards took one look of them and did not dream that these were their superiors. The gates opened and the two led their horses out at a trot.

"See," Aragorn said, grinning. "I knew they would not have looked closer."

"That is enough chatter." Éomer commented. He heard the gates close behind him, and he knew the work that he had left in the Study. The Marshal laughed in delight. "Come! Let us be off! I would love to feel the free wind before our freedom fades with this dream!"

With a joyful cry, Éomer kicked his horse to a full gallop and Aragorn followed him, feeling equally free.

* * *

In the dark corner of the Gondorian Stables, two hooded and cloaked figures stood up slowly, startling some of the horses that had forgotten their presence. The strangers were armed with bows and swords, their burning gray eyes had followed the two kings when they were saddling the horses. The two figures had watched their prey as it left.

_"He is getting slow." _One remarked conversationally to the other. The other one gave a soft laugh. _"He will regret it soon enough."_

_"You are enjoying this." _The first one accusing, the fire in his eyes disappearing to give way to warm amusement. The other laughed, harder this time. For once, the figures did not seem so threatening as they had when they first appeared in the stables. The laugh was lilting and merry. _"Aye, I am."_

_"And I imagine they all will, too."_

* * *

_Author's note: Oh, dear... What troubles have the two kings landed themselves in..._


End file.
